As I was riding into Kamloops yesterday, I noticed a small fire off to the left of the hotel. There was a small but steady flow of smoke rising from the ground to the sky, though I couldn’t see any appreciable flames. It gave me some pause, but not enough to change my plans, as there was relatively little wind in the area. By morning, however, smoke filled the valley. Multiple fires were burning nearby, so the shift in wind was more likely to blame than this particular fire expanding to any significant coverage.

When I checked in last night, I was disappointed to find out that breakfast wasn’t included at the Best Western Kamloops. As a motorcycle rider who regularly tours, breakfast is a must. I’m not one to ride on an empty stomach due to potential low blood sugar issues. An included breakfast means one less stop at the start of the day. I’ve come to know Best Western as a chain that isn’t the cheapest place to stay in town, but generally offers a reasonable comfort level across the brand.

The original plan was to stay at the Best Western Kamloops on Tuesday night. Due to a rain delay, I moved my reservation to Wednesday, which cost me an extra hundred dollars. Frustrating? Yes. I’m not sure what was significantly different between a Tuesday and Wednesday night to make the rate go up 30%, but whatever. Arriving to find breakfast not included was just extra frustration on an already sore wound. I appreciate consistency across a brand. While it may be a small victory for the Best Western Kamloops to squeeze out an extra $20 from their guests, it’s not good for Best Western as a whole, particularly for those in their loyalty program.

The one saving grace here: the breakfast was actually quite good.

Late yesterday, I started seeing signs for Vancouver, indicating my eventual return home. However, I brushed off the formal ending of my trip, telling myself I was going to wander off the beaten path and not take Highway 5 over the Coquihalla Pass, but instead head north to avoid the oversubscribed Canadian freeway.

Climbing out of Kamloops reminded me a lot of the Eastern Sierra. The landscape is predominantly dry, with pine trees dotted throughout. Highway 1 squiggles along the side of Kamloops Lake and then drops down into the town of Savona. It’s a quick jog along Highway 1 to Cache Creek, then a quick squiggle up Highway 97 for the final stretch along Highway 99. From here on out, Highway 99 would bring me back home to Vancouver. The end of my trip was near, and Highway 99 clearly marked that transition.

Highway 99 began with an athletic cadence through Marble Canyon. The road was just two lanes, and the traffic was nonexistent. The twists and turns began to delight this tired traveler, weary of through roads.

As I traveled further west, the climate continued to dry out and the temperatures continued to climb. Highway 1 is almost desert-like in this area, which surprises me, as I often think of Canada as a cold, wet place. I’m not far from the town of Lytton, which was wiped off the map by an aggressive wildfire in the summer of 2021. I’m now beginning to understand why there are so many fires in the interior of British Columbia—it truly is hot and dry here. As I continue to ride, I come across the occasional transport truck (nothing like in the interior). These things are massive and take no prisoners on the highways out here. Trucks in California aren’t usually on tight and winding roads—something for which I am thankful. Fortunately, today, very few transport trucks were about.

As I passed through the town of Lillooet, the landscape changed again. This area gets more moisture from its proximity to the ocean, so the foliage thickens significantly. Also, Highway 99 begins to climb at an aggressive pace, tossing in a dash of jocund din—a smile appears on my face from ear to ear as I squiggle through this glorious piece of asphalt. I’d say Highway 99 is my favorite road of the entire trip. As I was chatting with someone after my return, expressing my delight with Highway 99, they laughed and said, “Highway 99 is a lot like riding in California.” Click—the lightbulb went off in my head.

As I pushed south, Duffey Lake came into view. R and I came here a few years ago, but the weather couldn’t have been more different. It was cold, overcast, and the lake had a broody nature to it. Today, with partly cloudy skies and temperatures nearing 80 degrees, it couldn’t have been more inviting. The Duffey Lake Loop is a staple among Vancouver motorcycle culture, and now I understand why. If the Highway 1 return is half as good as this road, it’s quite the loop and one to ride on a future trip to Vancouver.

Joffre Lakes Provincial Park has been a bit of a fleeting target. The lakes themselves are supposed to be absolutely gorgeous. The last time R and I came through here, the parks were closed due to Indigenous religious ceremonies on the land. This time, the Park Service has placed a daily cap on the number of visitors, and I was unable to secure a registration spot to see the lake. As much as I wanted to sneak my motorcycle into an undiscovered corner and slip into the park, I knew that would clearly be the wrong move—even if I played dumb.

I rolled into Pemberton around 2 o’clock and continued the great poutine motorcycle journey across British Columbia. Yes, I know that poutine comes from Québec, but allow this wide eyed American to believe poutine is wholly Canadian. I’m discovering that great poutine is definitely solid fries, a touch of cheese curds, and most definitely gravy. R and I stopped at the Town Square Restaurant and I remember a fantastic meal. I dropped in again and was equally pleased, as the bison burger and the poutine solidly delivered.

I know Canada is not exempt from homophobia, but somehow it seems easier to exist here as a gay man. Finding small signs like the pride flag in the RCMP detachment and the rainbow crosswalks in small-town British Columbia reinforces that assumption. Canada made gay marriage the law of the land over 10 years before the States, which I do think adds to that belief, combined with Canada’s more left-leaning nature.

As I head south towards Whistler, Green Lake appears on the left-hand side of the road, indicating how close I am to Whistler. Traffic then fills in any gaps that might have existed on the relatively sleepy Highway 99.

After grinding through Whistler, the road opens up again, picks up a second lane, and then it’s an all-out flight to Vancouver. I stop at the viewpoint for Mount Tantalus—one of my favorite overlooks in the lower mainland of Vancouver. The mountain is bold, brash, and unforgiving in all the right ways. I’m hoping to sneak up here sometime in the winter to see Tantalus covered in snow.

As I approach Vancouver, a touch of anxiety kicks in, knowing the relative complexity of crossing the Lions Gate Bridge at rush hour. Even on the best of days, this bridge can be difficult. The Lions Gate Bridge uses a counterflow system. The bridge has three lanes. Most times, the bridge has two lanes going in one direction for 10 minutes. The bridge operator then closes the middle lane, waits for it to clear out, and then opens it for the opposite direction’s use for 10 minutes. During rush hour, the bridge operator favors the busier direction, which unfortunately is not the direction I’m traveling. As I’m exiting Highway 1 in West Vancouver, traffic sits at a standstill at the top of Taylor Way.

Not only is it rush hour, but the sun is bearing down on me in full force. The temperature sits in the mid-80s—generally hot for Vancouver. It’s not the heat, but the humidity that makes sitting in traffic uncomfortable. Temperatures in the 80s aren’t uncommon or uncomfortable in California, but our low levels of humidity make the temperature significantly easier to handle in full motorcycle gear. I try to be that guy and wander through the Park Royal Mall, and was serendipitously punished by not knowing how to navigate the labyrinth of parking lots and decks. After 45 minutes of futile activity, I finally get onto the bridge. Lane filtering is not allowed here, so all I could do was grind with the rest of the traffic around me.

Crossing over the bridge and into downtown Vancouver, I could feel a sense of pride wrap around me. I’d seen the interior of British Columbia: its mountains, its lakes, and its people. Plus, I got a hell of a lesson in poutine.

It’s great to be in Canada, eh!

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